


The Ringing in my Ears

by howoo



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternative Universe - Jopok, I'll add more tags as the story advances, Lee Jihoon | Woozi & Min Yoongi | Suga Are Related, Light Angst, M/M, Mafia AU, Organized Crime, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Strangers to Lovers, This is all yaoi mafia mangas condensed into one whole self-indulgent story, because I'm THAT kind of trash, mentions of mental disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-29 10:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howoo/pseuds/howoo
Summary: "How do you even know you like me when I'm all broken and I have all these missing pieces?"OrIn which Jihoon was the heir of one of Korea's biggest crime syndicates, but steps down from his position to pursue a career in music production.He lives alone in an apartment where he writes all his songs and where he spends most of his time and occasionally receives the visit of his former mafia buddies.On a fateful morning, after a sleepless and unproductive night, he meets Kwon Soonyoung, a kindergarten teacher with a bright personality and even brighter smile who instantly has a positive effect on him.





	1. Jihoon — Busan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome to this mess.
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic and I warn you that this chapter will be slightly weird (??) and will have very little dialogue (how do you even write those???), but as the story progresses, it'll look more normal.  
> It's heavy on characterization, as it sets and shows Jihoon's past and how he came to be where he is right now.
> 
> WARNING: This story does mention a few mental disorders such as PTSD, depression and anxiety, and this chapter in particular will feature a PTSD attack, so if you're uncomfortable with it, please skip the scene between "~~~~"
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it!

Lee Jihoon stared into the contents of his kitchen sink with heavy eyes and a weight on his shoulders that didn’t match his small frame.

The water constantly dripping from the faucet, the drops hitting a bowl that was sitting inside the sink for at least a week sounded more like an ironic metaphor of his own life.

He tried turning off the faucet, knowing fully well it wouldn’t work. He was supposed to get it fixed months ago, but for some reason, Jihoon always caught himself staring blankly at the drops of water during his sleepless nights.

Insomnia was a common aspect of his life, but sometimes, he was just afraid of what he would see once he fell asleep.

 

 -------------------------

 

Jihoon first noticed he didn't live a normal life when he had just started elementary school and noticed the fearful glances the other mothers directed at him and his bodyguards.

He only understood what that actually meant once he got older and one of his classmates commented on how weird it was that he went to school by car, accompanied by scary looking men wearing dark suits. For him, none of the men were scary. In fact, they were part of his family.

It was in middle school that he finally got why his friends from his class never visited his house and why their mothers always looked at him with a hint of suspicion whenever he went to their house.

 

 -------------------------

 

It happened during his first year of high school. By that time, Jihoon was already used to being avoided by other students and having aspiring delinquents following him around, calling him boss and trying to enter his group. 

By that point in time he was already resigned to the idea of never having the same life experiences as his peers. He had already warmed up to the idea of being the next head of the group and his father would sometimes allow him to participate in some of the meetings, so he could learn the ropes. He would also go on rounds, checking their territory, accompanied by some of the younger underlings and he was greeted by a few shop owners. 

He also had a small faction of followers in the family, mostly guys like him, who grew up in the group, some of them were sons and grandsons of the men who served his father and his grandfather before him. 

Jihoon’s small frame was never a problem amongst his underlings, as he was always seen as the future leader and was also well respected by everyone, even from a young age. He was recognized as a great strategist and even some of the older guys sometimes seeked his counsel for future ventures. Jihoon was also well versed in martial arts, learning taekwondo and judo since childhood, he could actually deal with someone who was double his size with ease, which actually saved his ass during the times some tough guys at school decided to bully him. Much to his chagrin, those boys didn’t last even ten minutes worth of exercise. 

At his third year of middle school, his father insisted he learned how to handle a gun and took him to a shooting range owned by a family friend. The weight of the metal object felt weird at first. Such a brute instrument didn’t match Jihoon’s long and slender fingers and the way he had to hold it felt unnatural compared to light and nimble actions his hands would normally execute.

He decided he hated guns on that very first day. The cold metal never warmed up against the heat of his sweaty palms and the sound it emitted made him flinch more than the actual recoil he felt from the shot. In a weird way, he also felt very excited, exhilarated even. That weapon gave him such a sense of power, such exuberance that Jihoon felt scared. Scared of what he was capable of doing possessing something such as that. His father gave him a small semi-automatic pistol to carry with him whenever he went on patrol, but Jihoon left it in a drawer and carried a knife instead.

 

 -------------------------

 

Jihoon was fifteen and had just won another piano competition. Both his parents were present in the audience, a really rare sight, since his father hated classical music—which Jihoon started learning by his mother’s insistence and kept going because he was honestly really good at the piano—and avoided being in public with his wife, since it could threaten their safety.

His mother left first, after giving him a congratulatory hug and promising a nice meal for dinner. His father stayed, he wanted to talk to Jihoon while taking a walk around the park near the auditorium. He insisted on being outside because the weather was nice and he was in need of some exercise anyway.

First, Jihoon heard a loud bang coming somewhere around the bushes behind them. Second, he felt the ground hitting him as one of the bodyguards threw himself onto him. Third he heard the people screaming, his men yelling orders at each other and a thud nearby, like a bag of sand being tossed on the ground.

He was laying on the ground when he started to see the blood pooling and forming a small river coming to his direction.

Next, he felt a tug as he was being pulled up to his feet. It was at that moment that he saw one of his own man laying on the ground, life being drained from him as a red flower bloomed on his chest.

It was not the sight of blood that freaked Jihoon out, he was quite used to it, actually. It was seeing one of his dear family members losing his life in front of him that changed his perspective of everything. For the first time since he was born, death felt real, almost palpable, not just an abstract idea or a coffin filled with someone he barely knew and had no feelings for. Jihoon felt responsible for this death, he wanted to hold the guy’s hand and comfort him in his last breath. He had no time for it, though, as he was rushed into a car and taken home soon after, the images still vivid in his head while his father and the group higher ups made an emergency meeting to discuss the whole situation.

Jihoon had no time to mourn his loss, nor the chance to attend the funeral. He heard from another man that everything was handled as quickly as possible and the only form of comfort offered to his underling’s family was a letter from his father and some hush money.

Soon after, Jihoon started slowly distancing himself from the family’s activities, only participating when strictly needed. He buried himself in schoolwork and had earphones blasting music into his eardrums all the time, so he could drown the sound of firearms.

 

 -------------------------

 

Jihoon is 27 now and lives alone in a medium sized apartment on the other side of town. He cut all the ties he could with his family business and leads a life as honest as a son of a mafia boss could lead. 

He still visits his parents’ home and his former underlings always stop by his apartment to check if he’s alive—mostly Mingyu coming to clean his place and stock his fridge with food, acting as his housekeeper now that they don't work together anymore. His father also deposits a hefty allowance on his bank account, because according to him, there’s no way to live a comfortable life and be a musician at the same time. Jihoon is just glad he wasn’t disowned a few years ago, when he announced he would no longer be the next head of the group. 

He went to college and majored in music production and started selling a few of his tracks still as an undergrad. He currently works from home, in a small studio inside a spare room in his apartment, composing songs for entertainment companies all over the country. Jihoon already has some kind of recognition in the field, but everyone in the industry agrees that if his creations weren't so sporadic, he’d probably dominate the scene within a couple of years. 

Sometimes Jihoon thinks they're right, but most of the time, he just stares blankly at his bedroom ceiling.

 

 -------------------------

 

It was on a random Thursday at 7 AM when Jihoon first met him. 

He had spent the whole night awake, trying to wring out a few chords from his brain, working on a song he was commissioned to make. However, none of the melodies that came out fit the happy falling in love concept the company gave him and the lyrics scribbled across his notepad weren't any better. 

Finally, when he realized the sun was starting to rise outside his window and he hadn't eaten anything in god knows how many hours, Jihoon found out that all the cooked meals left by Mingyu in his fridge had gone bad and he had nothing to eat, so he decided to go on a quick convenience store run to restock on energy drinks and instant ramen. 

 

“Whoa there, buddy, I think that amount of sodium, sugar and caffeine is enough to kill you!” 

Jihoon heard a voice coming from behind him, too damn loud for that time of the day. He didn’t have enough energy left to answer to that comment, so he just turned his head around and glared at the stranger. The other guy was a few inches taller than him—it was not that hard, really—, had jet-black hair styled in a bowl cut and and sides shaved. Jihoon hadn’t paid much attention to any other details about his appearance, other than the fact that he had a blinding smile and seemed genuinely happy at that godforsaken hour. 

“No, really, though,” the stranger said, eyeing the contents of Jihoon shopping basket—a really unhealthy amount of instant food, cans of energy drinks, coke and bags of instant coffee powder—“you shouldn’t consume that amount of junk, it’s bad for your health. Also…” He looked straight to Jihoon face, “I think you could use some time under the sun too, you know.” 

Jihoon was dumbfounded, to say the least. He hated when strangers gave unsolicited advice, and it was even worse because it was too early and he hadn’t eaten or slept  in the last 18 hours. 

“Um, thanks, I guess, but I’m fine.” Jihoon noticed the other guy was holding an assortment of convenience store pastries and breads and a can of coffee himself. “You’re not doing much better than me, though.” 

The stranger shrugged and then commented, “I overslept and didn’t have the time to make my own breakfast, but oh well, you caught me.” He made a guilty expression and then turned around, proceeding to the register. “See you around! Please don’t kill yourself eating junk food! That’s a terrible death!” 

Jihoon dragged himself to the register soon the stranger left and then got home, thinking about that cute smile.

 

 -------------------------

 

It was the following Saturday and Jihoon was trying to work, doing his best to ignore Mingyu’s whines coming from his kitchen. It seemed to be an impossible task, since the soundproof room and his potent headphones weren’t enough to keep the boy from coming in from time to time to nag at him. 

“Hyung, how could you waste this much food?! I made it all just for you!” 

Jihoon sighed heavily and gave up on working for the rest of the day, going to the living room instead, where Seungcheol was splayed on the couch, reading something on his phone. Mingyu’s sounds were even more audible now. 

“There should be a limit to the amount of energy drinks one is allowed to store in their house! Hyung, this is too much even for you!” 

Jihoon looked towards the kitchen, where Mingyu was frantically cleaning up while simultaneously tending three other pots on the stove. He chuckled at the scene. It was always funny to watch that beanpole of a man wearing an apron and scarf tied around his head to keep his hair out of his face.

“Since when do I own cooking pots?”, Jihoon asked Seungcheol when he sat on the other couch. 

Seungcheol briefly glanced at him, acknowledging his presence, but soon turned back to his phone, “Mingyu thought it was easier to cook here instead of bringing all those containers, so we bought them on the way here. Oh, you also have a rice cooker now, Mingyu said rice tastes best when it’s freshly steamed.” 

Jihoon just sighed and sank deeper into the couch. He felt a migraine building up. 

Those visits paid by his former head security guard and Mingyu were very frequent. Seungcheol tried to drop by at least once every two weeks or so to inform Jihoon about the family businesses and to hang out, since it was a good opportunity to do nothing during working hours. He somehow managed to get a copy of Jihoon’s key and sometimes slipped inside to take a nap on his couch, which he would later report as an official visit to Jihoon’s father. Mingyu, on the other hand would drop by everyday if he could, and in fact, when Jihoon first moved out of the manor, the younger begged to go with him, so he could clean and cook for him. Jihoon insisted he was able to take care of himself. That was clearly a lie. 

He actually enjoyed those visits, even though he always put a disgruntled front. It was always an opportunity to know what was really happening at home (he always thought his parents accounts were exaggerated) and to catch up with his childhood friends. Others would also come by, but Seungcheol and Mingyu were his most frequent visitors.

 

 -------------------------

 

The second time they met, Jihoon was sitting on a bench at a park near his apartment building. 

He was still trying to compose a new song, which he somehow managed to form a sketch of an upbeat melody, but couldn’t come up with any lyrics, so instead of stressing out in the confines of his soundproof cave, Jihoon chose to go out. 

Truth is, he sat there for approximately an hour, staring at nothing, incapable of drawing any inspiration and wondering if he should get out of there because he was pretty sure he was starting to look suspicious, when he registered the sound children laughing and yelling. _Great._  

He looked around just in time to see a group of kindergarteners coming to the park, wearing their school uniforms, guided by two men and a woman—who he presumed were the teachers—wearing colorful aprons. 

Jihoon thought he knew one of the guys—the one with a black bowl cut, wearing a huge woolen sweater—from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where they met, since Jihoon rarely went out and had no friends outside his mob family circle. 

The kids soon enough scattered through the park, running and screaming while the teachers were trying their best to keep an eye on everyone. Jihoon decided it was his cue to go back home, when he noticed the bowl cut waving at him and coming in his direction. 

“I’m glad to see you haven’t died from junk food poisoning!” 

Oh, it was _that_ guy. 

Jihoon smiled faintly, “Uh, yeah. I told you I was fine.”

“You look better too,” the stranger sat beside him on the bench, eyes glued on the kids running around. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way. Kwon Soonyoung. I keep talking with you and didn’t even have the decency to introduce myself! Rude, no?” Sooyoung offered his hand to Jihoon. 

Jihoon took it and shook it weakly. “Lee Jihoon. Glad you’re aware.” 

Soonyoung snorted and then flashed Jihoon with the most blinding smile he had ever seen in his life. It was almost like looking directly into the sun. 

“So, what a fine man like yourself is doing alone in the park on a weekday?”

That was Jihoon's turn to snort. “Fine looking man? I work from home and was just taking a break”. He pointed his chin towards the kids. “Why aren't they in school? Don't they have a playground there?” 

“Oh, that…” Soonyoung scratched the back of his head as if he was embarrassed. “We don't really have one? We barely have something to call a school, to be honest.” 

Oh. _Oh._  

Jihoon felt immediately embarrassed for making a rude comment like that, and was about to apologize when the other guy called for Soonyoung. 

“Kwon Soonyoung! Stop slacking and come do your job!” 

“Sorry, gotta go! See you around, Lee Jihoon!” Soonyoung stood up and went towards the other man’s direction. On his way there, he scooped one of the kids on his arms and spun around, causing the kid to shriek in joy. 

For the first time in days, Jihoon felt like a few lyric lines were bubbling up on the back of his mind and he sprinted back home before he lost inspiration.

 

_I still can’t get over_

_The way you laugh in front of me_

 

 -------------------------

 

The song didn’t turn out the way Jihoon or the company executives were expecting, it didn’t have the freshness and boyishness they wanted, but they still liked it and bought it from him, promising to release it as a B-side song or include in a future mini-album. Jihoon was actually quite proud of his newest creation, considering the amount of melancholy and sad songs he had written and discarded during the last few months.

 

 -------------------------

 

It was Saturday and Seungcheol was sitting on the couch at Jihoon’s living room, playing video games on the TV. Mingyu was finishing cleaning up the bathroom, humming mindlessly, happy with the fact that Jihoon had actually eaten all the food Mingyu had prepared during his last visit. 

Jihoon was sitting next to Seungcheol, watching him play and making comments here and there, something he hadn't done in a while. His long time friend, the ever so perceptive Seungcheol picked up on that. 

“Did something good happen?” He asked without taking his eyes from the TV screen. “You look like you’re in a good mood.” 

“I just finished writing a song, I’m just happy ‘cause it’s been a while.” 

Seungcheol let out a low chuckle and glanced towards Jihoon, showing him a small but meaningful smile.

 

 -------------------------

 

On the next day, Sunday, Jihoon took a bus to Daegu to visit his cousin, Yoongi. Seungcheol had actually offered to drive him there and take the opportunity to see his hometown, but Jihoon knew fully well that his presence would make his cousin uncomfortable, so he declined the offer. 

Jihoon had always been good friends with his cousin, also a fellow mafia life dropout and struggling musician. Although, in Yoongi’s case, the word struggling was actually real. 

The both of them would probably be the best of friends if they actually _talked_ to each other, but their shared genetic constitution seemed to have something that made it impossible. They were close enough, though, always exchanging text messages and Jihoon traveling to see his cousin from time to time. 

“Hyung, you look like shit”, Jihoon said during their lunch together. It was an understatement, actually, Yoongi looked worse than shit. His already paler than pale skin showing a greyish, greenish hue underneath, dark circles that looked like giant bruises under his eyes and he could swear Yoongi was looking skinnier than ever. 

Yoongi looked up from his plate, but said nothing, turning his attention back to the food. But Jihoon knew, he could tell the unsaid words, that his cousin thought he didn’t look much better either. He had seen a mirror. Yoongi, however, wouldn’t say a thing. He still treated Jihoon as this fragile child and their relationship was just this tapestry of unsaid things woven in thin threads, ready to snap at any given time. 

After the meal, they went out for a walk. Jihoon wanted to go Yoongi’s house, listen to whatever track he’d been working on, show his most recent works, ask him to do a collab, but he wouldn’t. So they talked about unimportant things and avoided talking about themselves. 

Jihoon said he needed to take the bus back home and said goodbye to Yoongi, inviting him to go visit Busan anytime soon. Yoongi agreed, even though both of them knew he’d never keep his promise. They each went on their way and again, there were thousands of unsaid words hanging in the air between them.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A motorcycle exhaust backfires somewhere in the neighborhood and then Jihoon wakes up suddenly, covered in sweat, his ears ringing and he’s hyperventilating. He clutches his sides, trying to ground himself, trying to focus on something, anything, but everything is dark and blurry. 

He manages to get up and walk towards his studio, his legs so wobbly they are barely able to support his weight, but he grabs whatever is in his reach and tries to keep himself from falling. Once inside the soundproofed room, he turns on the speakers and they play whatever song he last played. Jihoon then crawls under the table and hugs his legs against his chest, trying to make himself small, small, small. 

He wakes up hours later, still in the same position, his whole body aching from sleeping in such an awkward position. The speakers are still playing loudly and Jihoon is glad he hasn’t received any noise complaints. He gets out from under the table, trying to stretch his muscles as he tries to stand up, feeling every inch of his body complaining in the process. 

He goes to the bathroom, turns on the shower, the water scalding hot and as soon as he gets under it, his skin screams from the burning sensation, but the rest of his body already feels a bit looser. 

After the shower, Jihoon goes back to his room and lies down on the mattress, too tired to do anything, but too scared to fall asleep once again.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jihoon was sitting again on the same bench at the same park, but this time, it was late afternoon and the sun was just setting. 

After his episode, Jihoon hit another creative wall, which sent him spiraling back to not sleeping or eating—or doing anything, really—properly. He could tell by the way his clothes felt looser that he probably lost some weight and Mingyu literally shrieked in despair the last time they saw each other because—according to him— Jihoon got even smaller and the food in the fridge was left untouched. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped to meet Soonyoung when he went to the park, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t be there at that time of the day. Jihoon couldn’t quite define it, but he was sure the other boy had positive effects on him, even though they only met a couple of times and talked for about five minutes total. Maybe it was because the other boy provided him a sense of normality that he never had, maybe because he wasn’t part of _his_ world. 

Jihoon decided that he needed a break, a distraction, so he took out his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text message.

 

\----------------------------

 

 **You:** hyung?

 

 **SC-hyung:** _What up?_  

 

 **You:** are you free tonight? wanna hang out? 

 

 **SC-hyung:** _Sorry, bud :(_

 **SC-hyung:** _There’s some shit going on around here_

 **SC-hyung:** _Jeonghan is whipping our asses with work_

 **SC-hyung:** _Hansol, Mingyu and I will probably work the whole night today_

 **SC-hyung:** _Next time, okay? I’ll bring Hansol when Mingyu and I come to yours_

 **SC-hyung:** _He’s been asking about you a lot lately_

 

 **You:** oh, ok

 **You:** is everything alright?

 

 **SC-hyung:** _Yeah, don’t worry_

 **SC-hyung:** _It’s fine_

 

 **You:** please be careful

 

 **SC-hyung:** _I will_

 

\----------------------------

 

He let out a long sigh and threw his head back with his eyes closed. He fiddled with his phone while trying to calm down the anxiety that threatened to creep up in his chest. Jihoon wasn’t really sure about Seungcheol’s current mission, but since he was part of a crime syndicate, he had a faint idea of what that could be and the implications made him worry even more. 

It could be nothing, really, maybe just a stake out at someone’s house to ensure that they wouldn’t run away in the middle of the night, or they needed to receive a new drug shipment at the docks. Nothing dangerous, but Jihoon couldn’t shake off this feeling of uneasiness and needed to drown them for his own sake. 

He considered calling Yoongi, but he was probably working in one of his three hundred jobs and even if he did call him, Jihoon couldn’t just say “So, my best friend is out on a mission this night and even though it might be nothing, I need a distraction, so… What up?”, so he resigned to put his phone back in his pocket, then go maybe go to the convenience store on the way home, buy some beer and maybe watch something on Netflix. 

Just when he left the park, he saw someone coming to his direction from the corner of his eyes, waving their hand in the air. Jihoon instinctively tensed his body as a defense mechanism, but when he saw who it was, he felt his muscles immediately relax. 

Soonyoung approached him half jogging and once he was in front of him, he doubled over with his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths before turning back to Jihoon. 

“Hey, you’re here!” Jihoon couldn’t quite figure out what Soonyoung’s voice sounded like, but he wondered how someone could sound so cheery all the time. 

“Um, yeah, hi”, he answered weakly. 

“It’s been a while since I last saw you, I thought you were buried under a pile of energy drink cans!” Soonyoung combed his hair with his fingers and Jihoon noticed how he was dripping sweat and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He felt a bit of heat creeping up his neck and cheeks and looked away, trying to fight it down. 

“Nah, I’m alive and kicking. How about you?”

“Well, you know, taking care of brats in the morning, going out for jogging in the afternoon. Same old, same old.”

“Wow, you take care of kids _and_ goes out for a run? What are you? An Instagram fitness guru?”, Jihoon had never been this friendly before with a stranger and he almost didn’t recognize the tone in his own voice.

Soonyoung let out a breathy laugh and Jihoon felt his throat go dry. “No, no, I just need to be in a good shape, you know? You can’t be out of shape and work at a kindergarten at the same time, right?”

Jihoon didn’t know that, but that wasn’t important, was it? Not now, at least.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You don’t look like the type who’d go to take strolls at the park. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jihoon chuckled. “I uh, got stuck? In a thing I’m working on and came here to um, I don’t know, a breath of fresh air, I guess.”

Soonyoung observed him with a careful gaze, a faint smile on his lips and his head tilted a bit to the side. “Do you want to, I don’t know, talk it out? I mean, I barely know you and I’m covered in sweat and I must be stinking right now, but we can buy something at the convenience store and maybe talk?”

Jihoon felt overwhelmed for a second and shook his head, so it wouldn’t took over him. “No, it’s okay, I’m fine now, but thank you for your offer.”

“Are you sure?” Soonyoung didn’t seem to quite believe him, as he showed a bit of concern on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, thank you. I think I know how to solve my problem,” Jihoon showed him his most genuine smile and turned to go back to his apartment, “really, I’m fine. See you around?”

“Uh, yeah, see you!”

Soonyoung turned to the opposite side and begun running again. Jihoon watched him as he went away, before he started walking towards his home.

_I’m fine, everything’s going to be fine._

For the first time in a long while, he let himself believe in those words.

 

_Without anyone knowing_

_I have changed_

_It’s mixed up, baby_

_I’m mixed up into you_

_I didn’t know I’d be like this_

_Because it was always just a what if_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it until the end, my most sincere thank you! 
> 
> I hope you liked this mess. I don't know when I'll be updating, but I hope it's soon.  
> The few lines that appear in this chapter are the translated lyrics for 20 by Seventeen


	2. Jihoon — Busan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon and Soonyoung meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yes, this fic is not dead and neither am I.
> 
> Please read the notes at the end because I have lots of stuff to tell.

Things, in fact, weren’t really fine.

Sure, Jihoon was able to write the lyrics for an entire song after he got back home on that day and he did compose the rest of the song in just a couple of days and he did sell it to a production company that was about record it with a new boy group.

But things didn’t go fine on Seungcheol’s side.

Jihoon didn’t really know what happened, but when Seungcheol, Hansol and Mingyu showed up at his door on the following Saturday, he could sense a certain tense aura around them and they were all sporting an injury somewhere on their bodies.

Mingyu had a yellowy purple splotch under his left eye, which he tried to conceal by not styling his hair and letting his fringe fall over his face. Seungcheol’s knuckles were all bandaged up in a poor attempt to cover the raw wounds underneath it and poor Hansol had a split lip and a cut on his right cheek.

Jihoon didn’t ask what happened because he knew none of them would properly answer him. As a matter of fact, Mingyu made a beeline for the kitchen, avoiding to look him in the face, eyes downcast in a way that was really uncommon to his usual puppy-like nature. Seungcheol slumped on the sofa with a grunt, leaving him and Hansol alone in the hallway. Hansol was looking at everything _but_ Jihoon’s face and he knew the younger would act awkward all day if he had to, so Jihoon simply sighed in defeat and invited him to the studio.

Hansol was the youngest member of the family’s inner echelon and Seungcheol’s half brother. Jihoon always treated him as his real younger brother, as he had no siblings of his own, and Hansol treated him with as much respect as he treated his real older brother, which was a lot. He was probably one of Jihoon’s most devoted subordinates when he was still active and it really scared him because he knew the younger would do absolutely anything for him. Maybe stepping down was the right decision.

He would never predict that Hansol would see his work as a music producer with the same wonder as the time he beat up a group of school delinquents who were double his size with bare hands. He not only would ask him a lot of questions with real interest but he also showed to have a knack for the job. He had a natural talent as a rapper and he would often help Jihoon with the rapping parts of his songs.

“Wow, hyung, this is a bit different, but I like it. I’m digging this acoustic vibe.” Hansol said, bobbing his head to the rhythm of the song. He always enjoyed whatever he listened to. Once Jihoon wrote a jingle for a TV commercial featuring Heechul from Super Junior and it was simple track that he barely considered a song, but Hansol swayed to it like it was the best bop he’d ever heard.

“You really like it?” Jihoon was also satisfied with the song, but he liked to have the younger’s approval.

“Yeah, it’s cool, kinda different from what you’ve been making lately, but I dig it.”

“I'm glad you liked it. Maybe I'll need your help in the near future.”

“Cool. Cheol-hyung also wanted to write some rap lines again.”

“Yeah, maybe I'll ask him too. How are things going, by the way?”

Hansol looked away, to the ground, to the ceiling, to the computer screen. It was clear that he didn't want to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

He finally sighed deeply and said, “The same, I guess, at least at home. Hyung doesn't talk much to dad, even though he has been doing a lot of high profile jobs under Jeonghan-hyung, which requires him to work a lot with dad, but their relationship is only professional, I guess.”

Jihoon hummed in response. He knew very well about Seungcheol’s feelings towards his father, as they talked extensively about that particular subject over the years, but he knew better than pry too much into his hyung’s personal life. Not through Hansol, at least.

“And what about those bruises?”

Hansol swallowed thickly and averted his gaze once again. “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “It was just an stake-out gone wrong. Seriously hyung, don’t need to worry, we’re fine, I swear.”

Jihoon wasn’t really convinced, but he figured it would be the most he’d be able to extract from his dongsaeng anyway, so he decided to drop the subject.

 

\-------------------------

 

Sometimes, loneliness hit him hard like a truck.

Jihoon didn’t mind living alone, he really didn’t. It was better than living with his parents, where there were always a horde of subordinates and maids running around the manor; where he could always hear the low humming of a meeting happening in a room somewhere nearby. He never heard the sound of the faucet dripping when he lived at the manor.

It was always late at night when his kitchen sink would decide to frustrate his sleeplessness. During the day, the sounds from the streets probably drowned the drippy-dripping ruids, but once the city went to sleep and Jihoon was all alone, the drops of water falling as a metronome were the only company he had.

He wondered if it was measuring the beat for something in particular.

 

\-------------------------

 

Seungcheol and Mingyu decided to stay almost radio silent for the next few weeks. They would barely answer his texts, they didn’t visit him and Hansol was apparently siding with them in this matter.

 

_You: hyung, what's going on?_

 

_Jeonghanie-hyung: What do you mean?_

_Jeonghanie-hyung: Also, why do you only contact me when you need something, hm~?_

 

_You: seungcheol-hyung and mingyu are practically radio silent and even hansol won't tell me anything_

_You: so, you're my next best bet_

_You: sorry, i promise to drop by soon_

 

_Jeonghanie-hyung: Hm~~~ promises, promises…_

_Jeonghanie-hyung: Don't worry, Jihoonie, they're all fiiine_

_Jeonghanie-hyung: Especially Cheollie 👅👅💦💦_

 

_You: please don't do that ever again_

_You: i just want to know if there's anything going on. i worry about them, you know_

 

_Jeonghanie-hyung: Oh, but why should you? You left, remember?_

_Jeonghanie-hyung: We're the mob, there's always something going on_

_Jeonghanie-hyung: Now go use that pretty head of yours to think of new pretty songs, will you?_

 

Talking to Jeonghan, as per usual, proved to be fruitless.

So, Jihoon found himself feeling quite stressed. It wasn’t that uncommon, he was basically the personification of the word “stress”, but he was mostly anxious, worrying about what was actually going on with his friends. It was an inevitable feeling when everyone he knew was in the mob, which made Jihoon’s current situation all the more hopeless.

Jihoon then decided to take the best course of action and go out to drink instead of wallow inside his house.

He, however, chose not to drink at a bar. He decided to stop by a liquor store, buy a few cans of beer and a couple bottles of soju. The flavored ones, because he definitely needed some distraction. It was actually enough alcohol to let Mingyu, a very tall man with a fairly good resistance to booze, very tipsy, so, Jihoon, a very small and lightweight man would be completely drunk by the end of his drinking session. Perfect.

He knocked down two beers, one after the other, right after leaving the store. He was halfway through his third beer when he felt like eating a snack and, while wandering aimlessly on the streets, he found a stall selling skewered fish cakes. Jihoon finished his beer, ordered a few skewers and opened one of the flavored soju bottles. The flavor was terrible and it was even worse when paired with delicious, tasty and steaming odeng. He didn’t even pay attention to the flavor of soju he bought, but by the taste of kitchen degreaser mixed with too much sugar and a hint of rubbing alcohol, it was probably citrus.

By the time he was done with his food, he had already emptied the bottle of pipe cleaning soju and he was feeling a warm and nice buzz on the inside. Jihoon’s cheeks were bright red and the weather felt too stuffy, so he decided to walk around aimlessly, in the hopes that the night air would cool him off.

He lived in a part of Busan that wasn’t so close to the beaches, meaning that the general topography around his house was a lot flatter than the general idea people had of the coastal city. There were no huge slopes with endless stairs to climb, no cable cars running between tightly packed houses. It was almost as if he lived in another town, away from the bustling coast, packed with tourists; away from the docks and storehouses where his family operated their businesses. It was almost as if Jihoon had a completely new life away from the mob, from the organized crime syndicates, from all the violence.

And yet, he still lived in his hometown, in an apartment provided by his parents, paid with illicit money. And yet, he was drinking himself to a stupor to forget the dread he felt because none of his loved ones had an easy way out like him. Alcohol wouldn’t wash away the guilt he felt for being so privileged, but it did help numb everything.

Without noticing, Jihoon found himself sitting on his usual bench at his now usual park. He was on his last can of beer, the other bottle of flavored soju had already been emptied and discarded somewhere along the way to the park (it was blueberry flavor and it tasted like sweet soap lollipop). His body felt light and a bit sluggish and there was a gentle breeze that helped him cool down a little bit.

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he felt strong arms enveloping his body and carrying him somewhere. The strength and the warm felt somewhat familiar, so it was probably Seungcheol, who found him in the park and was taking him home. Jihoon leaned into it, snuggling against his neck and inhaling his scent. How weird, Seungcheol wasn’t wearing his usual cologne.

 

\-------------------------

 

Jihoon woke up confused. It was really unusual for him to have such a good night of sleep and his hangover manifested itself in the form of a dull pain on the back of his head rather than an immediate need to puke all of his stomach’s content. There was some noise around the apartment, maybe Mingyu doing something in the kitchen.

The bed was still warm and it felt cozier than it usually was, so without opening his eyes, Jihoon snuggled deeper into the blankets, just to notice that there were a few things amiss. His back was against the wall, which was weird because his bed was in the middle of the room. The sheets and blankets felt different from the ones he had and the smell was also different from the fabric softener Mingyu used to buy. He opened his eyes slowly and reached around the bed, only to realize that it was a twin bed, instead of his own queen sized one.

Jihoon sat up straight and scanned the room around him. His head throbbed, but it wasn’t important. Waking up on a stranger’s bed was something that had never happened to him. Jihoon wasn’t the type to follow a stranger to their house just because he got drunk. Growing up in the mob taught him to be suspicious of everyone, especially when it had alcohol or other drugs involved.

He was looking around to see what he could use as a potential weapon when the door suddenly opened, letting in the brightness from outside and blinding Jihoon for a second.

“Oh, you’re up! Good morning!” A familiar voice greeted him. Jihoon felt his muscles relax a bit, but not completely. Soonyoung was only peeking inside the room and Jihoon could only see his slightly damp hair and the towel around his neck.

Jihoon’s face might’ve given away his state of utter confusion because Soonyoung entered further into the room and approached the edge of the bed. Jihoon recoiled when the mattress dipped under the other’s weight when he sat on it. A kind of knee-jerk reaction.

Soonyoung’s smile was a bit softer than usual, he had a bit of a sheepish aura around him, which, form what Jihoon learned from his two interactions with him, wasn’t his normal.

“Sorry, you must be surprised, right?” Soonyoung said, fiddling with the blanket. “I saw you passed out drunk at the park and decided to take you home. I changed your clothes, I put the ones you were wearing in the washer because they were reeking of alcohol, but I swear I didn’t do anything to you!” He raised both hands over his head.

It was only then that Jihoon noticed that he was wearing a rather large t-shirt that exposed his collarbones. He suddenly felt self-conscious and covered himself with the blanket.

“Why did you do it?” He asked in a tone barely above a whisper.

“I was afraid you might catch a cold.” Soonyoung’s voice was so, so gentle and his eyes were so full of kindness, Jihoon was sure he felt his stomach doing a somersault.

The chime of an alarm went off in the room next door and Soonyoung snapped his head towards the sound. “Oh shit! I have to go to work!” He scrambled to get up, ran to the other room and peeked his head inside to address Jihoon once he shut down the alarm. “I made breakfast for you, if you can eat anything. There’s also Gatorade in the fridge. Your clothes are on the table, feel free to use the shower before you go.” Jihoon could barely keep up with the speed with which the other was talking, his mind still a bit clouded from the night before.

“Oh, right, please swing by my work to leave the keys!”

“What if I don’t want to?” Jihoon said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I have your phone with me,” Soonyoung answered with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You what?!” Jihoon tried to get up, but got tangled in the mess of blankets and sheets.

“Anyway, the address is also on the table! Bye!” Before Jihoon could say anything else, he heard the front door slamming shut.

 

\-------------------------

 

Jihoon knew he should’ve suspected something when Soonyoung first mentioned that the daycare he worked at didn’t have a proper facility.

When he got out of bed and walked out of the room, he was just annoyed, a feeling that was soon substituted for something he couldn’t quite identify when he saw a full Korean breakfast served on the table and his clothes neatly folded near the dishes. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel his usual post-drinking sickness. It was quite the contrary, his stomach grumbled when he saw the bowl of rice next to a bowl of steaming hangover soup. He sat down and basically inhaled his meal, noting, belatedly, that it tasted almost as good as Mingyu’s cooking.

After washing the dishes (he felt it was the least he could do for Soonyoung), he took a quick shower and changed clothes. He then grabbed the piece of paper where Soonyoung had scribbled his work’s address on and raised an eyebrow when he noticed that it was located in his family’s territory. It must be just a coincidence.

He threw a last glance around the apartment before going out. Soonyoung never gave him the impression of being someone who lived in a spotless clean place. He rather gave off the image of being messy.

 

Jihoon stood in front of the house, staring at it for a while. He was definitely at the right address, so he was all the more confused.

The house was huge, nestled in a suburban area, and Jihoon was almost certain the place itself belonged to his family. Normal families in Busan couldn’t afford a building like that and most celebrities and Korean nouveau riches who owned summerhouses in town prefered to buy places near the beaches. His gut told him he should just turn around and go back home, buy a new phone and forget Soonyoung.

But instead, he took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

He heard squealing and loud laughter, typical of a place filled with children. It took a few instants until he heard the door being opened and whatever doubts he had were cleared up once he saw the doe-eyed man who answered it.

“Hello?” As soon as his eyes focused on Jihoon’s figure, Doe Eyes looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Jihoonie? Hi! Is there something wrong? Did something happen?”

“Hi, hyung,” Jihoon sighed. _This just keeps getting better_ , he thought. “I think there’s a Kwon Soonyoung working in here?”

“Did our Soonyoung do something wrong?” He said, closing the door behind him and straightening his apron. “Jihoon, I swear he’s a good kid, I don’t think you need to personally…”

Jihoon cut him off before he could create any misunderstandings. “Jisoo-hyung, Soonyoung did nothing wrong. Well, he’s got something that’s mine and I’m here to retrieve it.”

“Something yours? Is it money? Because, if it is, I’m sure I can talk to--”

“Hi Jihoonie!” The door opened once again and Soonyoung waved at Jihoon over Jisoo’s shoulder. He looked back and forth between Soonyoung and Jihoon, trying to piece together some kind of connection that could exist between them.

Jisoo opened his mouth to say something, but Soonyoung beat him to it by grabbing Jihoon’s arm and dragging him inside. “Come! We need help around here today!”

Kids definitely weren’t Jihoon’s specialty. He always felt a bit awkward around them, not to mention the fact that people always mistook him for one, all thanks to his short stature. So, when Soonyoung shoved a colorful apron into his hands and led him to a living room turned into classroom, Jihoon felt his breakfast threatening to go back from whence it came.

The female teacher who was in the room with the children shot him with a confused look as soon as she recognized him. Soonyoung montioned to introduce the two of them, but she quickly came over, saying, “Oh, we know each other, right, Jihoonie?”

Soonyoung looked amused, instead of confused. His lips were quirked upright displaying a small smile.

“Uh, yes. Hi, Yejin-noona. It’s been a while.” Jihoon said, busying himself with the apron he was holding.

“You’re totally right.” She enveloped him in a tight hug and then turned to the class. “Hey, everyone! We have a special guest today! This is our friend, Jihoon! You can call him samcheon!”

“Can’t I call him oppa? He doesn’t look like a samcheon to me!” A girl asked. Jihoon tried to glare at her, but Soonyoung’s snort besides him made him stop.

“Now that’s not really nice,” Yejin clapped her hands together. “He told me that if you behave well today, he’ll even play the piano for us!”

 

Jihoon wasn’t required to deal directly with the kids, he mostly helped gathering and sorting the drawing and writing materials into the right bins. He just sat on the back, observing the class unfold. Jisoo, as always, was soft-spoken and very gentle with the kids; he explained things slowly and calmly answered to all the questions they made. Yejin was cheerier and she always talked in a singy-song kind of way, engaging the children to do whatever activities she proposed. Soonyoung was a bomb made of pure energy and he was practically a kid himself. It wasn’t a surprise to see that he was the favorite teacher.

 

As promised, he was asked to play the upright piano tucked in the corner of the room. The keys didn’t draw notes as clear and sharp as he was used with the digital piano he had back at his studio and he suspected it was slightly out of tune because of lack of use. Jisoo gave him a few music sheets, but he ended up playing the Baby Shark song, with Jisoo accompanying him on the guitar, and Yejin’s voice being way too powerful for a children’s song.

The kids loved their little show and they received a toddler-sized standing ovation, with Soonyoung leading the applauses.

 

Lunch time came and went without any hitches and soon after, it was nap time. Soonyoung and Yejin were in charge of laying down the mats, blankets and pillows and making the kids fall asleep while Jihoon helped Jisoo with the dishes.

“I thought we had a proper school building for the kids,” Jihoon said while scraping off the leftover food in the plates in the garbage bin and dumping them in the sink filled with water.

Jisoo was silent for a moment. “Yeah…” he started, “we used to. Until a few months ago.” He was scrubbing the dishes a little harder than necessary. Jihoon started doing a bit of math inside his head.

“What happened then?”

Jisoo’s hands stopped working as he inhaled deeply. “Someone destroyed it, Jihoonie. They set the building on fire while we were inside.” His voice was thick and he was gripping the edge of the sink with so much force, his knuckles were white.

Jihoon had to stop his own hands from trembling. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Jeonghan and Seungcheol won’t say anything to me. Just the other day Cheol came home all bruised up. They didn’t want me to listen, but I heard it, Jihoon. I heard Cheol saying Hansolie killed again.”

Jihoon heard his own breath hitch in his throat, but before he could say anything, he felt Jisoo’s wet and soapy hand on his. “Please talk to them. Seungcheol always listens to you.”

“I’m the same as you, hyung.” Jihoon offered the older a bitter smile. “I’m just an outsider.”

 

Once classes were over and all the kids were gone, Jihoon helped cleaning up and waited outside until Soonyoung was done. The teacher had a gym bag slung across his shoulder, hands shoved inside his bomber jacket and a smug smile on his lips. Jihoon extended his palm towards him and did a grabbing motion, signaling that he wanted his phone back.

“Not yet. There’s one more place we have to go.” Soonyoung’s eyes were perfect half moons, his cheeks drawn so up high in a smile that all his front teeth were exposed.

“What? No! Give back my phone!” Jihoon started feeling aggravated again.

“No can’t do, Ji. You have to come with me to one more place.”

“You know what? Whatever, I’ll just go home. Keep the phone, I can just buy a new one anyway.” Jihoon starts stomping his way back home, regretting whatever positive impression he had about Soonyoung in the first place.

“Are you sure? You know, I guess Jisoo-hyung would love to watch these videos of you being dead drunk. Your mumbling is so cute.”

Jihoon wasn’t sure how he was able to turn his head so fast without pulling a muscle, but he did so, while walking back to Soonyoung as fast as he could. “You fucking recorded me when I was drunk?! I thought you were a good person, but you’re obviously not.”

“Come on! Don’t be like that! Your singing voice was just so pretty I needed to have a more concrete memory of that.”

Jihoon narrowed his eyes. “What do you want? What do you gain from all of this?”

“Your company, for once.” Soonyoung shrugged. “The last time I saw you, you said you were stuck and then, I found you passed out drunk at the park. Figured you needed some change of atmosphere to shake off all the sadness.”

“I’m not… sad.” Jihoon said, incapable of looking at Soonyoung.

“Yes. You. Are.” Soonyoung poked the spot between Jihoon’s eyebrows with each word, and then he started gently rubbing it. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You just can’t allow it to be what defines you. Come on, just this once, okay?”

Jihoon nodded. Begrudgingly.

 

\-------------------------

 

Soonyoung lead Jihoon on a 20 minute walk that ended up in front of a dingy two-storey building that looked like it was shoved between two bigger, newer buildings. When Soonyoung opened the door, it creaked so loudly Jihoon thought it would come off right there.

Normally, he’d never follow a stranger around, especially to an old, creepy place like that. But Jihoon had learned a few things about Soonyoung along the day: he was trustworthy enough to work with the kids whose parents worked to the group, he was more observant than he initially let out and he had mad reflexes. On the way there, Jihoon tried to put his hands inside Soonyoung’s bag and pockets, only to be easily deflected. He might as well be an undercover ninja for all Jihoon knew.

The building turned out to have underground floors and that was where Soonyoung headed to. He took out the keys and went inside of what looked like a dance studio. The wooden floor didn’t look the best and it had stains from the water leaking out of the air-conditioner. The mirrors were also old and spotty.

“Feel free to sit wherever,” Soonyoung said, changing his shoes, taking off his jacket and putting everything along with his bag into a locker and closing it. Jihoon cursed mentally while sitting down in a corner where he could watch Soonyoung through the mirror.

The teacher began to stretch and when he was halfway through it, the door opened loudly.

“I’m sorry, Soonyoungie! My boyfriend held me up again.”

“No problem, hyung.” Something clouded Soonyoung’s eyes for a second before dissipating. “I brought a guest today, hope you don’t mind,” he said, pointing towards Jihoon.

“Um, hi, I’m Lee Jihoon, pleasure to meet you,” Jihoon introduced himself shyly.

The stranger looked at him intensely, his eyes huge and full of mirth. Jihoon looked away, feeling overwhelmed. It was rare for him to meet someone, especially a man, that could only be described as beautiful. He thought of Jeonghan, who was also a very beautiful man, but his nasty personality usually made up for his pretty face.

The blonde squealed and said “He’s so cute, Soonyoungie! Is he a new dancer? Your boyfriend? He’s your boyfriend, right?” He then grabbed both of Jihoon’s hands, squeezed them and shook them while introducing himself. “Hi! My name is Park Jimin! I dance here with Soonie! Pleasure to meet you!”

Jihoon looked sideways, at Soonyoung, who was observing the scene with a curious look until the word “boyfriend” was mentioned, then he looked almost as embarrassed as Jihoon. The amount of energy Jimin packed in his body was even stronger than Soonyoung’s. No, not stronger. Different. Soonyoung was the air full of ecstatic energy right before a storm. Jimin was a huge wave that engulfed his body whole.

“No, hyung, he’s just… A friend,” Soonyoung explained, still flustered. “I thought it would be okay for him to watch today, since it’s only the two of us.”

“Sure!” Jimin exclaimed and started stretching and doing warm-ups.

Jihoon went back to his corner and observed the dance session unfold. Dance, by far, wasn’t his field of specialty. He was somewhat familiar with it, having composed and produced many songs for idol groups, but he had never seen a dance practice in person. It was amazing to see how the human body was capable of translating sound and the feelings contained in a song into something visual.

He barely knew Soonyoung and he had just met Jimin, but the differences in their personalities were clear in the way they danced. Their moves were fluid like water, but while Soonyoung’s were powerful and sharp like a big river, Jimin’s were more delicate and airy, like a light shower on a Summer afternoon.

Time had passed without him noticing and before he knew, the music had stopped and both Soonyoung and Jimin were splayed on the floor, exhausted. Soonyoung was covered in sweat and even his hair was dripping wet. Jimin only had a slight sheen on his face, but he looked as equally exhausted. Once he was recovered enough, Soonyoung sat up straight and smiled at Jihoon through his reflection in the mirror. Jihoon held his gaze until they both heard Jimin groaning to the side.

“Can’t move… Soonie… Carry me home…”

“I have no strength left in me, hyung,” Soonyoung said, getting up. He walked to the locker, opened it and grabbed a towel from his bag and rubbed his face and hair with it. “We’re probably grabbing something to eat after here, though. Wanna come with us?” Jihoon looked at Soonyoung with inquisitive eyes. He certainly had not agreed to go out to eat with him.

Jimin rolled on the floor and was lying belly-side down, his chin propped on his hand and feet dangling in the air. “Nah, I’m on a diet, but thanks for inviting me.” He then stood up, grabbed a water bottle from his bag and started walking away while drinking it. “Well, I’m going. Enjoy your date!” He said, looking directly at Jihoon and winking before leaving the studio.

Soonyoung let out a breathy laugh, throwing his head back. Jihoon glared at him, but it had not effect.

“I’m gonna hit the shower really fast, then we’ll head out,” he said, leaving through a side door that Jihoon guessed lead to the shower room.

 

\-------------------------

 

When Soonyoung said “grab something to eat”, he apparently meant it literally, as they ordered take out in a restaurant and brought it to the park to eat there. Jihoon was staring at his container full of jajangmyeon, trying to process everything that happened that day. Learning that Soonyoung worked with Jisoo was definitely a surprise and he made a mental note that he needed to talk to Seungcheol as soon as possible.

Soonyoung also proved to be a pleasant company. It was as if he knew the right moments to talk and when to stay silent. They barely talked during their walks along the day and Jihoon felt grateful for that. Now, though, he could feel the other’s eyes boring holes on him.

“What?” Jihoon asked, slurping a mouthful of noodles.

Soonyoung hummed in response, trying to stay nonchalant. “You’ve been looking at me since we got here. I can feel you’re dying to ask something.”

He took his time finishing chewing his food and looking very pensive. “Hm… Let me se…” Soonyoung was poking his noodles with an amused look. “I spent the day with you because I wanted to know more about you, but the things I found out were completely different from what I originally imagined.”

“For example?” Jihoon shoved more food in his mouth. This conversation felt like it would make him lose his appetite, so he might as well eat while he could.

“I would never imagine you knew Jisoo-hyung and Yejin-noona. Or that you have a thing for Jisoo-hyung’s boyfriend.” Jihoon almost choked on his jajangmyeon. Soonyoung observed him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and Jihoon had to look away in order to formulate the right answer.

“It’s not… what you’re thinking.” Why should he justify himself to a complete stranger? He had nothing to do with him, Seungcheol and even Jisoo for that matter.

“ _You can listen to sad songs. And shed tears. Music is like that. You must listen to this song. Don’t listen and pretend you haven’t. If you hear my heart. Can’t you come back to me?_ ” Soonyoung sang the song. His song. “You were singing it while calling for Seungcheol’s name.”

Whatever appetite Jihoon had previously was gone now. He felt nauseated. It was only to prove that meeting new people wasn’t exactly a good thing. This stranger, this guy who he knew nothing about was here, holding his phone hostage and poking on wounds that had barely scabbed.

“My story with Seungcheol is none of your business. I know he’s dating Jisoo-hyung. That was a song I wrote long ago when I was feeling particularly down, but it was before they even started seeing each other. I would never interfere in their relationship. I don’t what image you have of me, but I’m not that kind of asshole.”

Soonyoung’s eyes softened and his smile looked genuine again, but Jihoon no longer felt like being in his presence.

“So you write songs? That one was quite famous wasn’t it? _Don’t listen in secret_ ? Wasn’t it the OST of some famous drama?” He smacked his lips and ate a bit more of food. “ _That_ is unexpected. And I thought I knew you.”

Jihoon gaped at him. “But you don’t.”

“Oh, I do,” he said with the largest grin. “At least, I know who you are on _this_ side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ten months later, here I am, with a new chapter. I almost gave up on it, but I decided not to.
> 
> Here's the thing, I decided to change a lot of things structurally. It was supposed to be a short-ish Soonhoon fic, and then I was going to publish spin-offs with other ships and PoVs, but then I said 'fuck it' and decided to make this fic be a fucking Behemoth. 
> 
> If you paid attention, you probably saw that the chapter names are now "Jihoon — Busan", to indicate the character whose PoV the chapter belongs to and their location. I'll add more characters in the tags as I write stuff and I'll try to be more consistent with my releases, but no promises here.
> 
> Also, BTS will be the secondary fandom included in this story, and I'll tag it when I get there. Lots and lots of cameos of other idols.
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments to feed my ego and soul.
> 
> EDIT: just fyi, the next chapter will feature a new pov character, so we won't be seeing things from jihoon's eyes for a while


	3. Yoongi — Daegu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Yoongi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, hi! 
> 
> surprise, you didn't have to wait for 10 months for a new update! yay!  
> anyway, as i said before, the story would have multiple povs, so here's yoongi's. i uhh,,,, have mixed feelings about this chapter, so please leave a comment if you liked it, it would be wonderful.

“Jihoon stepped down as the next leader,” Seokjin stated, matter-of-factly. There were no real feelings behind those words, he was just delivering a message.

Hearing that statement made relief wash over Yoongi. Jihoon was by far his favorite cousin and even though he was much more suitable to be the next heir and more of a dutiful son than Yoongi ever was, knowing that he chose to walk away from that life was always good news.

 

\-------------------------

 

It was Sunday and Yoongi woke up with his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton and tasting rancid. He tried to sit up on his bed, but the pressure building up behind his eyes made him dizzy and he had to lie back down, concentrating on keeping the contents of his stomach inside him. After taking a few deep breaths, Yoongi got out of bed carefully, trying not to stir his insides and made a beeline to the bathroom.

He looked into the mirror, trying to ignore the corpse looking figure staring back at him, he just opened the cabinet, downed two aspirins, not bothering to wash them down with water. His mind was still hazy with the residues of the way too many _soju_ shots he had the previous night, but he was able to remember that Jihoon was supposed to come visit him today. Yoongi cursed under his breath and considered seriously postponing his appointment, but just imagining Jihoon’s disappointed expression made him turn on the shower and stand under the cold water.

 

“Hyung, you look like shit”, Jihoon said, with a smirk in his lips.

Yoongi looked up from his plate and bit back the wish to say, _You’re not doing much better_ , because Jihoon was probably the only person he was not mean to. And Yoongi was scared of what those words could do to him. The guy in front of him looked paler —if that is even possible when them both already looked like two blocks of tofu—, he seemed to have lost some weight, his cheeks were no longer flushed pink and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have gotten wider, darker and deeper.

They talked about meaningless things, songs they’ve been listening to, new artists they’ve recently found out, their work. The conversation flowed easily over a meal of lamb skewers and a few beers. They never talk about their personal lives, though, never about their families. Both of them silently agreed to never touch on these subjects that took them to where they were.

Yoongi knew Jihoon was still deeply affected by what happened to him and Jihoon also knew Yoongi struggled really hard just to stay afloat. However, Yoongi never offered to hear Jihoon’s real thoughts and Jihoon also never offered to help Yoongi financially.

Both of them probably too proud to reach out. Maybe it was the way of the tough Gyeonsang-do men that made them similar even though their accents were different, maybe stubbornness was a genetic trait passed down through their shared blood.

They finished their meal, went for a walk around town when Jihoon announced it was almost time for him to take the bus back home and then they bid their farewells. Jihoon once more invited Yoongi to visit him in Busan and Yoongi politely agreed, even though he knew fully well he’ll never visit his cousin in his hometown.

Yoongi didn’t want to go to Busan and see the fully furnished apartment Jihoon has with his own studio, properly soundproofed and equipped with a new computer, nice speakers and everything. He didn’t want to open the fridge to get a bottle of water and see the containers full of homemade meals. Yoongi didn’t want to be reminded of what he never had.

 

\-------------------------

 

When Jihoon told Yoongi that he chose basically the same career path as him, Yoongi couldn't help but chuckle. He remembered with fondness of how Jihoon followed him around whenever the two of them met and how both of their mothers were always bragging about the prizes each of their sons got in piano recitals and competitions.

It was not really a surprise to Yoongi, considering how close they were and how they had so much in common, not only their shared family background, but also their physical appearance —people often thought they were brothers, even though Yoongi’s real brother looked nothing like Jihoon and despite they being from completely different family branches— and their similar tastes.

But Yoongi couldn't help but feel a bit envious of his cousin because his parents simply accepted and respected his decision, paying for his college education, giving him a nice apartment in Busan and depositing money in his bank account every month. He was envious of how he was already making a name in the music industry even though he was younger and started making songs way later than Yoongi.

Some days he blamed their families, saying that Jihoon’s father probably used his connections to help his son while his own father used the same connections to do exact opposite. Some days he thought maybe Jihoon was some kind of super musical genius e Yoongi was just an untalented fool pursuing an unattainable dream.

Most of the days, though, Yoongi sat in his tiny studio, grinding his brain cells to exhaustion, working and working and working his hardest to write new lyrics, make new songs, sending demo files everywhere. He ate little, slept even less. Then, he went off to work on his multiple jobs that paid for his hellhole of apartment and a couple times a month, he went to perform a few of his songs in a darkly lit club that smelled like cheap booze, cigarettes and a hint of piss.

 

\-------------------------

 

Unlike Jihoon, Yoongi was never meant to be the heir.

He was the second son, already free from the weight of shouldering the branch of one of the biggest criminal organizations in South Korea since his conception. But it didn’t mean he was completely free.

His older brother grew up to be the model son. Yoongi was supposed to be his right-hand man, his second in command, and for the longest time, he tried. He really did.

Yoongi went to all the extracurricular courses his mother signed him in, he had good grades at school, he started learning the ropes of the family business from an early age. But then something started going wrong along the way and suddenly, Yoongi wasn’t the golden child anymore. His parents weren’t all that worried when he just drifted off from the whole mob thing, thinking it was just a phase.

It wasn’t a phase.

Something shifted and changed inside him once he started middle school and Yoongi noticed himself spending more time alone. It was around this time he started listening to rap music, starting dressing like the rappers he liked and started writing his own lyrics. He put up a tough and aggressive front to hide something that was probably in shambles on the inside, his guard always up, searching for invisible eyes that could peer through his openings.

 

\-------------------------

 

It was Tuesday morning and Yoongi was spacing out. Morning shifts at the convenience store were one of the worsts, but it wasn’t like he had much choice. He would watch the people coming in and out of the store and scribble a few ideas on the notepad he always kept in his back pocket.

 

Mornings were always slow and tiring and Yoongi always thought it’d be better to be shot in the face instead of having to be forced to have social interactions with strangers.

 

He heard the annoying high-pitched chime of the automatic doors opening and looked up to see who it was. Namjoon came in walking as if he wasn’t fully awake yet, his hair sticking out in weird angles and the glasses on his face were also crooked. He probably fell asleep with them on and just went out as he was, not really bothering to look at a mirror.

Yoongi sighed and grabbed the keys for the staff room. “Here,” he said, handing them to Namjoon who still looked he was in a daze. “Wash that face and comb that hair, for fuck’s sakes.”

Namjoon walked towards the backroom and returned a few minutes later, looking more presentable and awake than before. Yoongi gave him a cup of shitty coffee from the machine and Namjoon mouthed a small “thank you” before taking a sip and grimacing at the taste.

“I don't know if it's the caffeine or the horrible taste that woke me up,” he said.

“If you're gonna complain about the free coffee I just gave you, then why don't you buy something, for a change?” Yoongi snapped, no real bite behind his words. “Why are you looking like you were ran over by a bus anyway?”

“Because that's how it feels like. I had to do some errands for Jin-hyung and also had to grade some papers for college. I fell asleep midway through it and then had no time to get changed.”

“You know Jin-hyung won't mind if you skip the shit he asks you to do if you tell him you're busy with uni stuff, right?” Yoongi raised his voice to be heard by Namjoon, who went into the food aisle.

“It's okay, hyung, I don't mind it, really,” the younger came back with his arms full of _samgak kimbap_ and assorted pastries and snacks, and a small smile plastered onto his lips.

Namjoon was so whipped for Seokjin, it borderline grossed Yoongi out. “You could at least ask him to cook you breakfast, you know,” Yoongi said, ringing the items and giving the younger his employee discount.

“I didn't stay at his place last night, and hyung has been overworked as it is lately, I don't want to bother him.”

“Whatever you say, Nams.” Yoongi handed his shopped items in a plastic bag and Namjoon grabbed it and turned towards the exit when he stopped on his tracks, then turned back in Yoongi’s direction.

“Hey, hyung, please don’t forget about Friday.”

“I won’t. Try to keep being alive until then.”

“Right back at you.”

Not much has changed in their friendship over their twelve years of knowing each other. Yoongi is still dirty poor, Namjoon is still the smartest and also dumbest person Yoongi knows. Except Yoongi’s hair is no longer bleached and Namjoon has learned how to handle a gun without firing it by accident.

 

\-------------------------

 

“Your brother opened a new club downtown,” Seokjin would call him sometimes to tell him the news. “We closed a really good deal this week,” he would say over the phone, or through text. Sometimes it was Namjoon who delivered the message.

It was for old time’s sakes. Seokjin taking into account the fact that they grew up together, both born just a few months apart and were destined to be brothers in business, each other’s right hand man, if only Yoongi weren’t kicked out.

“We were raided again by the pigs. Hyowon-hyung is fuming. It seems like we have a new chief of police in town who swore to fight organized crime in Daegu.” Seokjin said it as if he was telling a joke and Yoongi snorted. Trying to fight the Balg-eun Bich-pa in their own turf was worse than cutting the head of the Hydra.

 

\-------------------------

 

Yoongi’s former group, his former family, his former world was known by Balg-eun Bich-pa, The Bright Lights. It was old and had as many ramifications as bamboo cluster that shoots everywhere. If Liberalism believed in the market’s Invisible Hand, then the Balg-eun Bich-pa was the invisible hand of organized crime.

The group was so deep-rooted in the Korean underground, even the Chinese Triads respected them. They had their own laws, codes and systems, it was almost as if Korea itself was sitting on top of an ant hill and that ant hill was the Balg-eun Bich-pa.

 

There were three main branches of this enormous tree. Three main clans that commanded this well-oiled machine: the Lees in Busan, the oldest clan and the first one, the seed. They controlled the ports and were first known for smuggling drugs and weapons, and then later branching out to more legitimate endeavors like fisheries and imports. The Lees were also known for being the more compassionate of the three clans. The next ones were the Yoons in Seoul, known for being the lavish ones, waltzing around the capital with their luxurious fashion and painting the city in the neon lights of their clubs, brothels and talent agencies. The last ones were the Mins in Daegu. The cold ones, the ruthless ones. They also dealt drugs, weapons and everything else that a mob group was known for, but what differentiated them from the other two were their methods. The Mins would never forget a debt, they didn’t know the meaning of the word forgiveness. If a charred body appeared in the middle of the street one morning, no one dared to speak up.

 

\-------------------------

 

Yoongi was seventeen when he saw himself on the streets, a few personal possessions in a hastily packed backpack, the area around his right eye starting to bruise and his ego even more damaged.

He was careless, he knew. Kissing a boy out in the open, so close to home, someone was bound to see them. But fear and paranoia sound like fiction when you’re seventeen and so deeply in love.

Love. A word that hasn’t crossed Yoongi’s mind since that day, over a decade ago. He hadn't really had the time to think about it, not when his own survival came first.

Yoongi does, sometimes, think about it. Not love, no. He thinks about the boy whose name he can’t even remember anymore, about his burnt down house. He thinks about how he probably ruined the lives of an entire family, if they even survived fire, that is. Not even Seokjin, years later, could find any information on them.

He thinks about it at night, when he’s so tired even his bones ache, when he’s so exhausted he can’t even fall asleep. He thinks of all the things that went wrong and regret sticks to his ribcage like tar; so dark and thick it makes breathing difficult. Then before he realizes, he’s waking up to the sound of his alarm going off and he’s not really sure of what he was thinking on the night before, so he just gets up, gets ready for work and then goes out.

Lather, rinse and repeat.

 

\-------------------------

 

Once or twice a month, on Fridays, Yoongi and his small crew did live performances at a small club downtown. The place was tiny, smelled bad and he wasn’t sure if they had license to operate, but it still packed a small crowd and it was located on neutral territory, so, as far as Yoongi was concerned, it was perfect.

His crew consisted of Kim Namjoon, tall, awkward and very intellectual. Not even close to the mental imagine of an underground rapper. Not with college degree, tortoise shell glasses and complex vocabulary. The other member of his crew was Jung Hoseok, who was a dance instructor during the day (and also some nights) and dabbled in writing his own rap lyrics in his free time.

 

It was almost their turn to go on stage and Yoongi was locked in a bathroom stall, trying to ignore the stench of urine and focusing instead on his own breathing. It was a common occurrence for him. The dread of being in front of a crowd spreading through his veins like ice and paralyzing his muscles like he was thrown in a frozen lake. He’d feel like giving up, he wanted to stop thrashing and let himself sink to the bottom, where there was no sound, no one. Alcohol helped, sometimes; the pleasant burn in his throat would keep his voice going, his mouth spitting fire, telling the message he was so eager to deliver to the world.

Someone knocked soft on the door. “Hyung?” Namjoon’s voice came from the other side, a tinge of worry in his tone. “Is everything alright?”

Yoongi exhaled and inhaled deeply, careful not to be heard. He flushed the empty toilet and opened the door. “Yeah, peachy.” He hoped the younger didn’t hear how his voice was a bit shaky still.

Namjoon eyed him carefully, but chose to remain silent. “It’s almost time, we need to be on standby.”

“Yeah, sure.” Yoongi went to the sink, opened the tap, washed his hands and then splashed a bit of cold water over his face. The coldness brought him back to reality. He was still bit numb, as if he was stepping on clouds, not really sure if his limbs were his, but he could get by.

 

From behind the stage, he could see the duo who was performing there. A couple of young kids Yoongi remembered coming to talk to him not so long ago. He still couldn’t really concentrate on the music but he could focus on the crowd there. They were really excited, the kids seemed to be doing a real number up there.

On the front row, he could easily find a figure dressed in what seemed to be the most obnoxious suit Yoongi had ever seen. It had a lousy pattern with really vibrant colors and the man wearing it was jumping up and down so full of energy, Yoongi was sure it could cause a seizure on someone just by looking at him. The man in question was Kim Taehyung, Namjoon’s younger brother, who always came by to watch their performances and was probably their biggest fan.

Yoongi only realized the song was over when Namjoon tapped on his shoulder and handed him his microphone. Hoseok was besides him, overflowing with energy, trying to not bounce up and down on his feet, but that was way beyond his control. Namjoon also looked excited, in his own contained way. Quiet, but with a fire burning within.

Yoongi took a deep breath and then exhaled even longer, until his lungs were completely out of air. Eyes closed.

Those gigs weren’t a big thing, no producer from a production company would come to scout them there, he wasn’t going to be the next breakthrough indie rapper, but they meant a lot to him, Namjoon and Hoseok. They meant their solid friendship of over a decade, dreams and ambitions that would never die, however impossible to achieve they were, and more importantly, it was a way to literally voice their frustrations to the world.

When he opened his eyes and heard the MC announcing their names, the crowd cheering for them, something changed inside of him. That pitiful man having a breakdown in the bathroom had vanished from his mind, replaced by another one who got high from being onstage. It was a pure, anadultered adrenaline rush and no drug could make him feel the same as he did when he was under the limelight, the crowd vibrating with him.

Taehyung was waving his hand up and down, to the beat of the song and he was mouthing the lyrics as if he was performing it himself. Yoongi smiled at that and focused his eyes towards the back of the venue, where he could see Seokjin in tailored Armani suit, leaning against the wall and drinking from a metal flask. It was funny juxtaposition. An underground club that operated on dubious grounds, walls covered in posters and graffiti and Seokjin just there, in his expensive suit, probably drinking an equally expensive liquor. For a second Yoongi imagined that being himself, the feeling of fine cotton against his skin was something he had long forgotten.

 

\-------------------------

 

  
_You: hey, i saw that one of those superhero movies you like is on theaters right now_  
_You: wanna go watch it when you come here next week?_

 

_jihoon: sorry, hyung. something came up, i think i won’t be able to make it_

 

_You: work?_

   
_jihoon: yeah, kinda_  
  
_jihoon: i’m really sorry. see you next time?_

 

_You: sure_

 

\-------------------------

 

Yoongi’s life followed a routine. Some days of the week, he worked at the convenience store, the others, at a hardware store. He always kept a notepad in his back pocket in case he suddenly felt inspired to write something. Most of his nights were spent locked at home, trying to work on new tracks and trying to get them sold recording companies.

His life followed a nice rhythm, one that was easy to follow. Sometimes there were a few bumps along the way, but nothing that would throw him off track.

 

\-------------------------

 

“Hey, do you know what Jihoon’s up to?” Seokjin asked one night, when he dropped by Yoongi’s apartment.

“We message each other sometimes. Why?” That wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t been keeping close contact with his cousin and the last time Jihoon had texted him was at least two weeks ago. But Yoongi also knew that Seokjin probably planned his days down to the minutes and would never ask about his cousin unless he wanted further information.

“Well, I heard some stuff from my birds in Busan and I just wanted to know if he told you anything,” Seokjin sat on the couch and grimaced. He hated that couch.

“Stop calling them birds, you’re not Varys from _Game of Thrones_ ,” Yoongi said, sitting on the coffee table, so he could look at Seokjin while talking to him.

“Oh, so you keep up with pop culture now, Min Yoongi? Do you binge your series on Netflix? Does this old TV even connect to the internet? can you even sit on this couch for longer than 5 minutes?”

“Shut up, _hyung_ ,” Yoongi said, disgruntled. “A coworker recommended to me and I decided to give it a go. Reminds me of home.”

“Are you feeling homesick now?”

“No,” Yoongi shook his head and snorted. There was no way he felt homesick, not in this lifetime. “Anyway, why are you asking about Jihoon? You wouldn’t be asking me if you didn’t have a reason behind it.”

“You know, when I see you on stage, or when you’re working on your music with Namjoon, I almost forget you came from the same snake’s nest as I. Almost. It’s good to know that you’re still sharp as ever.” Seokjin leaned back and crossed his legs.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some old hermit living in a cave and you came to me seeking for advice.”

Seokjin chuckled. He reached for his internal pocket and took out his metal flask and took a sip from its content. He then offered it to Yoongi, who took a big gulp of it. The whiskey burned his tongue and throat in a way that only expensive liquor did. He let it linger in his palate a little longer, savoring its sweetness and robustness.

“The Busan branch is moving,” Seokjin finally started talking after getting his flask back from Yoongi. “There was an incident with one of their buildings burning down and I think Jeonghan is out for blood. I think he’s trying to prove himself, if I’m being honest.”

Yoon Jeonghan was a distant cousin from the Seoul branch of the Balg-eun Bich-pa and he was appointed as the next head of Busan after Jihoon resigned. Yoongi heard from Seokjin that he wasn’t still being fully accepted by the Lee men, so he was really eager to prove them wrong.

“But, the thing is,” Seokjin uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, looking directly into Yoongi’s eyes. “My Busan seagulls told me that Jihoon has also been moving a lot lately.”

Yoongi swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. Jihoon never gave any indications that he would go back to that world, even though he hadn’t severed any of his ties with his family. Fires and other petty crimes were a common occurrence in group disputes, so why would his cousin meddle with it?

Seokjin looked at his wristwatch, as if the time he allotted for Yoongi on that day had just ended. “Well, anyway, if you hear anything from him, please let me know. Also, buy a new couch, that one is offensive.”

 

\-------------------------

 

A few weeks later, late at night, Yoongi received a text from Jihoon.

 

_jihoon: hey, hyung, can you talk rn?_

_You: yeah? is everything ok?_

  
_jihoon: yeah_  
 _jihoon: anyway, i need your help with something_  


_You: sure_   
_You: is that a new song?_

_jihoon: no_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaand i only know how to end chapters abruptly and in a cliffhanger. oh well

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it until the end, my most sincere thank you! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> [I have a twitter](https://twitter.com/howoo_juuibo)


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